


Out of Time

by Gimmemocha



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:09:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gimmemocha/pseuds/Gimmemocha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Incredibly AU. So, there you are in the Still Ruins. Everything's frozen in time. You snitch the staff. Time flows. You exit the room and all you see are demons and many dead Tevinter mages. They all got killed or died from bricks falling on them and stuff. </p><p>Or so everyone assumes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Annia slammed the door closed behind Antinius and prayed his wounds were not severe, prayed he would reach Baloren in time. She brought her shields up as she whirled, the demon's claws skittering across the vivid blue surface. "He's away! Where's Sarpedon?" she yelled to Evinus behind her.

"I don't know!" he said. "He was in the ritual chamber!"

Lurid green light pulsed across them both, brutal evidence that Helladius' experiment had gone as badly awry as they had feared. The veil had torn, demons were spreading out through the laboratory, and she, at least, had no idea how to stitch up the veil again. 

"The failsafe didn't work!" Evinus shouted. "We must hold the door, they mustn't get out into the world!"

She spared a despairing thought for the green fields, the farmers beyond the doors. The sanctum had been carved deliberately out of the plateau so that solid rock on three sides would protect the innocent from any backlash of the experiment. But even if they held the door, the ceiling of the structure was collapsing after the detonation. Surely some would escape that way.

Ice blistered over her arms, made her shudder. A cloaked demon, she saw, robes fluttering where it floated above the ground. Her shield collapsed as she lost concentration. Desperate, she flung plain fire across the laboratory antechamber at the thing, only dimly noticing the green ripple in the marble floor at her feet.

A demon erupted from the disturbance, knocking her backward and into the wall. Rocks tumbled around her, but she could not move, dazed from the impact. Through dust and debris, she saw the thing turn on Evinus, saw him fling his own blood outward at the dem—

 

—mon. She tried to get up, tried to move, but pain flared outward from the back of her head, and she found she could not summon the focus to stand. Dust and debris showered over her from the crumbling ceiling. Dimly, through burning eyes, she saw the demon's claws rip through Evinus' shield, saw his head go flying.

A rock hit her forehead, and for long minutes she could do nothing but breathe in pain and blood, nothing but listen to the screams and shouts, the screeching of demons that gradually overwhelmed bursts of magic. Then there was only silence and the scrape of claws on marbled floors.

She should get up. She should move. Demons were still coming through the tear, still prowling for escape. She had to get to the ritual chamber. It had been sealed with keystones distributed to the most trusted mages. Sarpedon and Helladius would still be alive, would emerge to fight, surely. She should join them.

She should get up.

Just get up.

Sounds of fighting in the distance. Annia struggled to rise, to move, anything. Her fingers swept hesitant runnels in the dust and sand. They had come, as she had known they would. She had to join them, could attack from the rear while they had the attention of the demons.

_"Hurry! Before this gets worse!"_

_"Worse than this?"_

What were they saying? Some incantations Sarpedon had prepared for just such an event? No, he would have shared them with her. She didn't recognize the voices, either. She heard their renewed attack. Magic and swords, a peculiar mechanical clunking sound… What had they brought with them to fight? She blinked, but her eyes were glued shut. Dirt, probably her own blood. She moved a hand to her face, tried to rub it free, but her hand was clumsy and coated with more of the same disgusting mixture.

She heard a thrum, a whine, a crackle like controlled lightning, then a brief explosion that sent more dirt pattering over her.

 _"It's done,"_ a man said, sighing. _"Let's get these notes to Frederic, see if he can make anything of them."_

Babble. Whoever they were, they were not Tevinter and they had not come into the lab past her and Evinus. Which could only mean they, too, had come from the tear. She stopped trying to free herself, stopped moving. If the demons had overlooked her in the rubble and dust, maybe these people would.

 _"Think any got out?"_ another man gabbled.

 _"The doors are closed. I doubt demons have such good manners as to close them behind them,"_ came the reply from a third voice.

 _"She's not out, she's still in. In and out, out but in. She doesn't know yet how out she is. She still thinks she's in. It will be sad, later."_ Four, then. There were at least four of them.

_"What?"_

_"Are you getting weirder, Kid, or is it just me?"_

They passed her, still yammering at each other in words she could not understand. They must have come through the tear, then, must have been in the Fade. But they fought the demons. None of it made sense.

She lost track of the world again, and slipped into darkness.

 

When she woke again, she was cold and impossibly thirsty. All was silent around her, and it took her long moments of blank thought to remember where she was, what had happened. 

The tear!

With a surge of energy, she pushed herself up, felt the resistance of the rocks on and around her. The largest of them had fallen to one side, or bounced off her judging from the pain in her back and sides. It took work to free herself, straining against the weight, struggling to free her clothes. Eventually she had to pull off her outer robe entirely before she could rise to her knees and look around, scrubbing at her eyes and blinking frantically.

The devastation shocked her. Bodies, fallen stone and crumbled walls. Where had all the sand come from? In the corners and by the stairs, it was piled in some areas in drifts higher than her head. 

She managed to climb to her feet, weaving where she stood. It seemed impossible. Sand? Had it come through the tear as well? No, she realized, moving carefully down the stairs. If it had, it would all be piled near the tear…

Which was gone. Had it sealed itself? It was possible, she supposed. Similarly gone were the four people who had come through it, leaving behind nothing to mark their passing. The demon bodies had, of course, dissolved back into the Fade. Around her were only dead members of her cadre.

Sarpedon.

She stumbled and staggered her way through the chambers into the inner courtyard. That area, with its open ceiling, held even more sand, more dirt. Gone was the soft, manicured grass and the flowers that had made it such a peaceful spot for relaxing between studies and spell-casting. None of it made sense.

Here, she finally noticed other bodies, also freshly killed. They were not, however, Tevinter. Strangers. More refugees through the tear? Had they all been so wrong about the Fade? It seemed it was not home only to spirits. Others, mortal others, traversed its uneasy passages.

The door to the sanctum stood open.

Someone had unsealed it. It had to have been Helladius, or Sarpedon, or both. They must have closed the tear while she had been unconscious.

But no, she saw as she entered the inner sanctum. Sarpedon had not escaped. There was his body, crumpled on the floor. Of Helladius, there was no sign. She sank to her knees beside the cooling corpse of her mentor. "Sarpedon," she sighed. "What happened?"

Rocks clattered over each other behind her, jerking her to her feet. "Hello?" she called into the quiet, her voice cracking and hoarse. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Hello, is anyone there?"

Nothing but the sighs of the wind, the soft hiss of sand across stone.

The sound reminded her of her thirst, but there were no servants. It suddenly felt silly that she had no idea where the food was stored, but she didn't. She searched as best she could, stumbling room to room, but found only sand, bodies, and looted chests and cabinets. The plundering was thorough. Had surviving mages collected the belongings before leaving?

Regardless, there was no food, no water, and no help. She had to leave. There was a stream nearby, she remembered that, though the goat herds drank from the same water. It would not be especially safe, but it would be water. Once out, she could find a nearby farmer to give her food and shelter, then find her way back home. She might even meet Baloren's forces coming to their aid.

Leaning all her weight on them, Annia managed to get the doors open and found the entire world altered. 

Wind and time had worn down the stones. Sand blew in and out, whispering to itself as it shifted. Grass, tough and rooted firmly, waved in the constant breeze. At her feet was a skeleton, long worn to bone and the remnants of armor, a scroll by his hands. Dazed, she bent to take it. The scroll crackled, already broken here and there by careless hands unrolling it. It was dry, as desiccated as the body next to it.

She read it, dropped it, skidded back away from the body. She knew him. Antinius. She had just seen him minutes ago, bearing Sarpedon's plea for aid. The skeleton repelled her as the fresh bodies inside the lab had not. She had just seen him!

Blindly, she fled the courtyard and stumbled into the desert beyond, unable to grasp what had happened, unable to understand where she was. Nothing was familiar. Where was the softly rolling prairie, the cheerful herdsmen and their belled goats? Everywhere was only scrub and sand and dark desert night.

Her strength gave out. She fell to her knees.

_"Beats me, Inquisitor. I can barely understand you half the time, don't ask me to interpret everything he says."_

Voices approached, foreign words blending together in a liquid babble of sound that she could not comprehend.

_"She's out now. Lost and lone, foundering fearful foundling. She's out of time. We have to find her."_

_"Her who, Cole? Just slow down."_

_"There!"_

Annia tried to push herself upright, but her stomach objected violently. Had she eaten anything recently, it would have come up. Hands caught her, supported her.

 _"Easy there,"_ a voice said, soothing and low. At least she could understand the tone, even if she had no idea what he was saying. _"Where did you come from? You can't be_ Venatori."

His accent was atrocious, but that word she recognized. Was he asking who she worshipped?

"Who are you?" she asked as he helped her find her balance.

He frowned at her, clearly not understanding her any more than she had understood him. Wordlessly, he handed her a fat leather bag. It sloshed in her hands. Water.

 _"Anyone catch that?"_ he said.

She drank in long gulps. A man with a broad-brimmed hat – a boy, really – took a step closer.

 _"It's all right now,"_ he said. _"We found you first, so you're not lost any more."_

He seemed very intent, concerned, but she didn't understand him any more than she had the other man.

 _"She doesn't understand. I can't help her."_ He turned to face the elf standing behind him, tall and slender and bald. _"You have to help me help her!"_

 _"We will, Cole,"_ the elf replied. Then he shrugged at a glance from the heavily armored human. _"Or did you mean to abandon her to the desert?"_

 _"No, of course not. All right, let's get her back to camp."_ He looked at her intently. _"I don't suppose you have a name?"_

Clearly he wanted something from her, but she had no idea what. Hesitantly, she held out his empty water flask to him.

He took it and slid it back into his pack. _"I'm open to suggestions,"_ he said to the others.

 _"Well, first thing that springs to mind is she's bleeding. Took a nasty knock on the noggin is my guess."_ The dwarf locked eyes with her, then reached up to touch his forehead. _"That hurt? We're all out of potions, but we can get some more back at camp."_

She mimicked his motion on her own face and winced again at the flare of pain. "I hit the wall, then I suppose it hit me back. I think I blacked out." Then she remembered. "Did you come through the tear? Is that why you don't speak Tevene?"

They were all silent, staring at her.

 _"Nope, not a word of it,"_ the human who appeared to be in charge said. _"All right, camp it is, and let's hope an Elfroot potion fixes whatever's wrong with her."_

But it was the elf who gave her the longest look, the elf who was the last to turn away. 

And he wasn't wearing a slave band.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only read this if you're interested in knowing how I figured out about what time the Still Ruins went still! It's long and boring.
> 
> We know the dragon manuscript found there pre-dates the first Blight based on the quest text after completing its translation. That does not, however, mean that's when the accident happened. It does serve as a terminus post quem, meaning the oldest possible date for the temple is when the manuscript was written. It had to exist when the temple was built or, at the earliest, be written in the temple itself. Not. Helpful. The ruins existed since at least before the First Blight. Great.
> 
> The Codex entry on the ruins is from a healer who uses the "low" names for the months. A soldier was found stumbling around talking about the ruins being frozen in time. These names became common, per the Wiki entry on the names of months, after the establishment of Ferelden. So it was already frozen in time when Ferelden was formed in 5:42 Exalted, 1618 TE. Not really helpful.
> 
> If Dorian's in your party when you turn the research in to Frederic, he says that no one's spoken that form of Tevene for 700 years. Assuming he's being literal, and depending on when during Inquisition you do that quest, that would mean it was at latest 1335 TE, about 70 years before the Second Blight begins.
> 
> Finally, I hit a jackpot. In a TwitchTV video on the ruins, Francois Chaput, one of the level designers for Dragon Age, said the ruins were formed at the height of the Tevinter Empire, around the same time that the Tevinter were doing all their little Fade explorations which led to the First Blight. After that, the Imperium begins its decline, so tho it lacks any hard in-game evidence, we're talking right around 800 TE, or about 1200 years before the start of Inquisition.
> 
> To veer off into speculation, here, I'm also assuming that the actual start of the Blight as a result of explorations into the Fade is a cutoff date, presuming that a) everyone was too distracted by holy crap darkspawn to do much intricate magical theorizing and b) it would probably be proscribed at that point because holy crap darkspawn see what happens when you muck with the Fade. Therefore, for my purposes, I've just picked a slightly arbitrary date of 798 TE, two years before the First Blight, as the moment time stopped for Annia.


	2. Chapter 2

She followed them, the boy in the hat hovering anxiously near her. From time to time, they chattered at each other. It was an incomprehensible flow of syllables chasing each other and she couldn't concentrate enough to try to pick out even a few familiar words. Her head ached, waves of dizziness rattled her balance, and she would have fallen more than once if it weren't for the boy at her side.

He seemed to know exactly when the dizziness was about to overwhelm her and caught her by elbow and arm, steadying her. He spoke to her in soothing tones, if not in reassuring words, and kept urging her onward when she would have stopped to rest.

Fortunately, they were not taking her far. Their camp was relatively close. Banners fluttered in the dry desert breeze, though she did not recognize the symbol. Some sort of sunburst, she thought, pierced by a downward-pointing sword.

They had a camp. People and supplies and horses. Soldiers milled around, trying not to look at her too curiously, trying to pretend they were keeping an eye on the waste beyond the camp. That argued against her theory that they had come from the tear. Unless they had brought many people with them, and she had only heard the four. They deferred to the group, she could tell that much, most especially the man who had given her water. Definitely the leader, then.

The boy handed her a small vial full of red liquid, and she sniffed it. The earthy/peppery sting of the herbal distillation made her sigh in relief. At last, one familiar thing. She drank it down, chasing it with more water he offered her. 

She smiled at him as the pain abated. "Thank you," she said. "Am I imagining it, or did you come back for me? How did you know where I was?"

Her words distressed him, she could see it in his open expressions, even shaded as they were by his ridiculous hat.

"It's all right," she assured him, reaching up to touch his arm, smiling and nodding more to show him she only meant well. "I'm grateful for your assistance."

The boy looked away from her, toward the dwarf who approached them. _"I don't know if I'm helping,"_ he babbled. _"I should understand her. It's not right that I don't understand her."_

_"You understand enough. Look at her, she feels better. She's happier."_

_"Yes. That's true. But how do I help if I don't understand?"_

_"You learn to understand."_ The dwarf sat beside her, met her eyes again, then tapped his chest. His armor was open there, exposing curly red chest hairs. "Varric," he said. Then he pointed to her and tilted his head to one side.

Well, that was clear enough. She set her hand on her chest. "Annia," she replied.

The dwarf grinned at her. _"There, see? We're communicating. My name is_ Varric, _and this is_ Annia. Annia, _this is everybody."_ He pointed to the boy. "Cole." Then the human leader, who was speaking quietly with one of the soldiers. "Max." Then to the elf. "Solas."

"Well, at least everyone has names. I don't suppose any of you have a pathstone, by any chance? I should really speak with Baloren."

_"Whoa, slow down there, Dusty. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."_

The elf was staring at her, slender arms folded over his chest. Something in his expression felt like a threat, and prickles ran up and down her spine. The dwarf was still speaking, but she stopped listening. Slowly, carefully, she freed her hands by setting the water and the empty vial aside.

Just as slowly, the elf unfolded his arms.

The dwarf – Varric, she reminded herself – looked back and forth between them.

_"Uh, something you want to share with the rest of us, Chuckles?"_

_"It may be nothing,"_ he said, not taking his eyes off her, _"but the words she spoke…"_

Max looked over to their conversation. _"What of them?"_

_"I have heard something similar, in my explorations of some of the deepest memories in the Fade. It sounds like ancient_ Tevene." 

Max took a step closer, looking from Solas to her. _"Can you understand her?"_

_"Unfortunately, no. In the Fade, there is no language, precisely. Only memory of words, of meaning. But you hear the language they speak."_

Annia glanced around her uneasily. They were all staring at her, even the soldiers who gripped their weapons tighter. She had to consider, abruptly, if she were among enemies. For all that Cole seemed to want to help, for as friendly as Varric had been, these people were not Tevinter and the empire had its enemies.

_"You're scaring her."_

_"That cannot be helped. Are you certain you know what she is?"_

_"Yes. She's lost, like I was."_

_"She's a spirit?"_ Max said into the silence that followed Cole's remark. What had he said? It didn't seem to be helping. She wondered if she should just go. She had enough magic for that, she thought. The potion had helped.

_"No, just lost. I told you. She's out of time."_

_"Wait, that was literal?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Kid, we have got to come up with some sort of signal for that."_

_"Wait. Out of time. You mean she's not just speaking ancient_ Tevene _, she's actually from ancient_ Tevinter?" 

"Tevinter!" she said, pouncing on the familiar word. "Yes, I'm from Tevinter. Can you get me there? Are we far? That would explain things, a little. If I'm not in Tevinter anymore, then perhaps the tear moved us through space. The entire laboratory. It would explain the collapse of the building as well, such a strain—"

Max held up both hands to her. _"That settles that, she's definitely_ Tevinter. _But where—Wait. The temple. The ruins. When time unfroze…"_

_"Yes,"_ the elf said, finally looking away from her. _"That must be it. She must have escaped the ruins and the demons."_

_"Well, shit,"_ Varric finally said into the stunned silence that followed. Gods of earth and fire, she wished she knew what they were saying! _"An actual walking, talking ancient Vint. Tiny is going to lose his marbles."_

_"Not to mention what Dorian will do. We might have found the one woman he'll actually be interested in,"_ Max said.

_"We should not take her to Skyhold,"_ Solas said. His eyes alone were still cold, still hostile. Well, fine. Let them be. The elves had been defeated by Tevinter before. Their people had been enemies, though most elves seemed to have resigned themselves to servitude.

Not this one, it seemed, with his proud stance, his lack of slave band. 

_"We can't leave her,"_ Cole said, leaping to his feet and striding to the elf, pleading with him. On her behalf? It seemed likely.

_"You don't know what she is!"_

_"Neither do you. You only think you know what she was."_

_"The kid's right,"_ Varric said. _"We have to take her with us."_

_"How so?"_ Max asked. Something in his stance reminded her of Sarpedon. He listened, she realized. He would take all opinions, then make his decision. And his decisions would be final.

_"You think Dorian's going to flip his moustache over her? Imagine what would happen if the_ Venatori _found her. Or worse,_ Corypheus." 

Corypheus? That idiot? She knew that name, assuming they meant the same person. Assuming she had followed Varric's awful accent. It was the use-name of one of the magisters working on piercing the veil, one of that cadre who wanted to enter the Fade physically. "You know Corypheus? Toth's blessed ashes, don't tell me you work for him. That's just revolting."

They all stared at her. Again. Now Max's eyes were just as unfriendly as the elf's were. _"She comes with us,"_ he said, decisive. " _If she knows anything about_ Corypheus, _I want to know what she knows._ Varric, _see what you can learn."_

_"Me? I barely got a name out of her."_

_"That's more than the rest of us managed. Keep at it. Just do what you can."_

Varric sighed and looked back at her as Max turned away. He shrugged. _"Well Dusty, looks like it's just the two of us. I hope you're a quick study."_

They traveled together, keeping her in the middle of their company. The soldiers remained behind at the camp; it seemed only the four of them traveled from camp to camp. Annia rode double with Cole. Max was too heavy, in his armor, for his horse to carry two. Though Varric was short in stature, he was all dense bone and heavy muscle.

No one had dared suggest she ride with Solas.

Annia herself didn't object. Cole was soothing in a way she could not put a name to. Perhaps it was simply that he was the only one who seemed to have any care for her well-being, or perhaps it was the earnest desire to help, the smothered anxiety he was carrying.

Whatever the reason, Annia was hard pressed to stay awake. The steady rhythm of the horse's movement lulled her to rest, and Cole, for all his youth, had broad shoulders. She found herself slumping forward, arms around his waist, and finally surrendered to sleep.

 

She was in her childhood bedroom. The bed clothes were rumpled, and she was wearing one of the simple night dresses she had worn as a little girl. The floor was littered with toys, but they weren't toys. They were tools; a pestle and mortar, philters, vials, herbs and crystals. Slowly she looked around. Books on the bookshelves bore the colorful covers she barely remembered, but the titles were books about magic and theory that she had studied later.

Uncertain, she moved to the window, stepping carefully among the detritus, not wanting to step on the bodies that were on the floor. With a light step, she avoided an arm, passed over Evinus's head. The curtains were heavy and she struggled to open them.

"You don't want to do that," said a voice from behind her.

She identified it as she turned. "Cole," she said, somehow unsurprised to see him sitting on her bed.

"I can talk here. You can understand me. It's better."

That took her slightly aback. "Are you… speaking Tevene?"

"Language lies. We don't need language here, just words that are thoughts tangling twined and twinned."

She sat slowly on the window seat and faced him. "I'm asleep."

"Part of you is."

"We're in the Fade."

"Part of me is."

"Well, this is convenient," she murmured. "I don't suppose you can tell me where I am. What happened."

"The rift opened. Monsters came out. Then time stopped, still and silent, yawning years yearning."

"Time stopped?"

"Yes."

"All of time?"

That seemed to flummox him. He vanished.

Annia stood and walked to the wardrobe. Opening it proved it full of soft white draperies that she pushed aside so she could get to the kitchen. Maybe there would be pies.

She found herself in the laboratory, before the experiment, before the tear in the veil. 

Cole sat on a bannister, one leg folded. "Time is soft, supple, it seems to be but is not. We move, time always stands still. I'm not very good with time. It was before."

"What was before, Cole?"

"This. Now it's different."

Sand. Dead bodies. Scattered stones lay around her, shattered by their fall from the distant ceiling, now open to the sky.

"Yes," Cole agreed.

Annia dropped to sit on a pile of rock. "So… you're saying that the failsafe, Sarpedon's spell, it stopped time after the tear opened?"

He was gone.

She looked around the ruined chamber but didn't see him. "So the laboratory didn't move in space. It… just stopped. Until it restarted. Later. But how much later?"

She roused to the light cadence of Cole's voice but had no idea what he was saying or to whom he was speaking.

_"She knew nothing, but it was still too much. It hurts."_

_"I do not question your motives, Cole, only how much you will reveal. It may not be wise to tell her everything."_

Solas. She straightened and looked over at the elf riding alongside. Despite her recent Fade-trek with Cole, she was no closer to understanding their language now than she had been when she had drifted off.

_"Wisdom waits wanting when help helps hurting heal whole."_

_"Kid, you have got to stop with the alliteration."_

Solas sighed. _"Very well, Cole, I'll not argue you into being something you are not. But she may not be the friend you believe her to be. Her kind, Tevinter mages, they enslaved spirits."_

_"That was before, too."_ Cole sounded sad. _"There's no more before, now."_

_"I hope you are right."_

Solas nudged his horse into a light trot, sent it ahead to ride next to Max.

Annia rested her head back against Cole's broad shoulders and fell back asleep.

This time, she fell through into dreams without any company.


	3. Chapter 3

She woke briefly when they stopped for food, but weariness still tugged at her. She had no idea how to know yet how much time had passed, had no way to be sure it even had. If Cole was right – if that had even been Cole – then the dry dusty land around the laboratory was the same land as the gentle prairie she knew. Even now, as they transitioned to scrub grass, nothing seemed familiar.

Finally, Max called a halt for the night. The others set up camp with easy efficiency, dividing the tasks evenly among them without conversation. Surely they didn't expect her to sleep on the ground…

Max handed her a rolled up blanket, tied securely with leather thongs. _"There you are,"_ he blabbed at her. _"I trust you won't mind that it's borrowed. It should keep the sand off and the worst of the morning chill."_

She looked at it, then at him, uncomprehending. Varric cleared his throat, catching her attention as he untied the thongs around his own blanket and unrolled it, laying it between the fire and the rockface that backed their camp site.

Fiery Toth, they did mean to make her sleep on the ground.

Varric chuckled. _"Well, if I needed any more proof she's from_ Tevinter _, the look on her face is it. She looks just like Dorian does when you drag him along."_

Max seemed amused, taking the blanket from her and undoing the ties with quick grace. _"She does at that,"_ he said to Varric.

"I get the feeling I'm the butt of a joke, here," she said, taking the untied blanket from Max. "You know, it's rude to laugh at someone to their face."

Max looked over his shoulder at Varric. _"I thought you were going to work with her. I still can't understand a thing she's saying."_

_"She slept most of the day, Your High Inquisitorosity. I guess getting unstuck from time will take it out of you."_

_"Well at least get a few words out of her before she falls asleep again."_

_"All right, but it's my turn to cook."_

_"I'll cook,"_ Max said, clearly disgusted with Varric. _"Why do you have to put mushrooms in everything?"_

_"So you won't make me cook, obviously."_ Varric looked her over as she tried to get all the rocks out from under her blanket. _"Lost cause, Dusty,"_ he said. _"They multiply while you sleep, trust me on that. All right, let's see how well we can communicate once we have common interests."_

 

They kept at it until Max interrupted them. Annia frowned at the blanket between her and Varric. _"Shit,"_ she said.

_"You taught her Wicked Grace?"_

_"You're overstating it. She's really bad at a cheating. But she has the basic hands down."_

_"And you taught her to curse, too."_

_"That… might have been accidental."_

She was sure, absolutely sure, that Varric had played that particular music card before. What was it? Music of sunrise? Dawnsong, maybe, to be more concise? Who knew. She pointed to it, tapped it.

He shrugged and grinned at her. _"Sorry, Dusty, I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about."_

"You're a cheater and a liar, you stubby little man," she said, "and the moment I catch you at it, I'm turning your nose inside out."

A snort of laughter drew their attention to Solas.

_"Any idea what she said, Chuckles?"_

_"None at all, Master Tethras. But it is plain she knows you're cheating and is displeased by it."_ Cocking his head at her, he continued, _"But I do believe one of the words she used was something like the_ Tevinter _word for nose,_ nose."

Was he repeating her? It wasn't the exact same word, the accent was still appalling, but it was close. "Nose?" she said, staring at Solas.

His amused expression faded back to cold dislike.

Max stepped to Solas. _"If you understand her, you'd best tell me now."_

_"I do not understand her, I simply happened to recognize one word."_

Max stared at Solas. Everyone was silent, watching the stare-down. Annia chewed her lower lip. Max's stare wasn't one she wanted directed at her, especially not with that sword strapped to his back, but Solas was still cool and unflappable, and all of Max's piercing intensity fell into him and vanished.

Finally, Max sighed. _"Fine. But you know I know you're hiding something. I admit, I'm disappointed. I thought us better friends than that."_

_"As did I,"_ Solas said, soft.

Uncertain, she looked back at Varric.

He leaned forward and patted her knee. _"Just some mane-tossing and hoof-stomping, Dusty,"_ he said, soothing. _"Don't let it bother you."_

There was that word again. "Dussy?"

"Dusty," he said again, clearer.

"What's that, dusty?"

He pointed at her. _"That's you._ Dusty."

She frowned. He knew her name, had said it before. Maybe he had forgotten. "Annia," she said, enunciating.

He chuckled, a warm and engaging sound. _"Don't take it personally, I give everyone nicknames. You just happened to get_ Dusty."

"What's it mean. What's Dusty?"

Whether or not he understood her words, he seemed to understand her intent. He slapped his leather boots a few times, causing small puffs of dust to rise. _"There. That's_ dusty."

Indignant, she straightened her back. "I am not dusty!"

He leaned toward her and ran a finger down her face, turning it to show it to her. She was downright filthy. Self-consciously, she patted her hair, only then realizing how frizzy and dirty her curls were.

"Dusty," he said.

With a sigh, she agreed, "Dusty."

_"Dinner,"_ Max said, the one word enough to pull everyone else to their feet. Annia followed suit, taking her turn at getting a small metal plate with some unidentifiable bread-like product covered in broth and strips of some sort of meat. Next to it were grilled strips of… Was that cactus?

Not wanting to seem ungracious, she took the… well, food, she supposed… back to her blanket and sat. She looked to Varric for his example. He was wrapping the flat bread around the strips of meat, adding the grilled cactus on top and folding the whole into a packet. After some fumbling she did the same.

It was not good food.

It was very bad food.

But she was hungry enough to attempt to choke it down, using long gulps of water to wash the taste out of her mouth. Water. Didn't these people have wine? Was there such a thing? If they didn't have wine, that was the first thing she intended to teach them.

Finally, she set it aside half-eaten and stretched out on her blanket. On the ground. Despite her efforts, there were indeed stones poking her in the back. She wriggled to try and move them aside, all to no avail. The others spoke in quiet voices, a lengthy discussion that did not, she decided after listening, involve her. At least no one said Tevinter or her name, so she assumed it did not.

She looked up at the stars, attempted to find familiar constellations. There was the sword, but it looked odd. And the dragon was wrinkled somehow, with his nose moved too far down.

Time. A very, very great deal of time had passed.

Abruptly, it hit her, landed on her like the rocks from the laboratory had. 

Antinius. Sarpedon. Evinus. Callia. Lucian. All dead. They were dead. Her cadre was dead.

She was alone.

She rolled over, put her back to the fire and closed her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she was sure they were leaving muddy trails in her dusty face, but she didn't care. Her mother and father, so proud that Sarpedon had included her on this experiment. Her little brother, Hadrius, just accepted into the Magisterium for training. Julia, her best friend, recently married and unsure if she were pregnant or not. Even Magister Fluff, her cat. Her cat was dead.

She curled herself into a tighter ball and tried to muffle her sobs.

Varric's rough voice spoke softly. _"Hey now, Dusty. Don't cry. You'll turn to mud and wash away."_

_"Now she knows she is out. Knowing no one, never knowing, love lost and left. She's alone now."_

Cole.

He touched her hair.

_"Forget."_

She slept.

 

In the morning, there was a cup of tea at least, though still no wine, and nothing more to eat than last night's leftovers. She declined the meat and bread, contenting herself with the surprisingly tasty grilled cactus.

She remembered little of last night. She remembered being sad, but couldn't quite remember why it had hit her as hard as it had. Something about an animal, but that was absurd. She'd never owned a pet.

_"Doesn't exactly pitch in, does she?"_ Max said as the horses were re-loaded for the continuing trip.

_"Probably doesn't know how. She's probably never had to sleep outdoors a day in her life until last night."_

_"The magisters were a pampered and spoiled lot,"_ Solas said. Though his back was to her, she could hear the disdain in his voice. _"Likely she has always had slaves to pick up after her."_

_"Well she'll have to get used to doing without. Skyhold doesn't have slaves. If Dorian can do it, she can too."_

Cole swung up into the saddle and held an arm down to her, tugging her up onto his gelding behind him. 

_"Ride near me,_ Cole," Max said, gesturing. _"Since all_ Varric _managed to teach her was how to curse and lose at Wicked Grace –"_

_"Those are very important skills, y'know."_

_"— let's see if I can't get a little further with her."_

Cole's gelding trotted up to Max's. 

Her hands resting lightly on Cole's hips, she looked over at the leader of their small group. 

"Corypheus," he said clearly. 

She wrinkled her nose. "The man's an idiot. We thought Helladius was bad enough, but even Sarpedon had nothing polite to say about Corypheus. No one can cross into the Fade in the flesh, and no one can predict what will happen when someone tries. But no, that entire cadre was ridiculously arrogant." 

Max held up a hand and cut off her words. He pointed to her, then to his head, then said "Corypheus" again. 

Annia frowned. He wanted something specific, but how he thought they'd get past the language barrier, she couldn't say. Gestures, she supposed. What did she think of Corypheus? What did she know about him? She had never been good at panto, but she tried. She stuck her nose into the air and looked down at Max as best she could. Imperiously, she pointed at the sun, then poked that finger into her palm repeatedly. 

_"He's a snob, and is the sort who'd demand the sun, I guess,"_ Max said. 

She shrugged, not sure if he understood her or not. 

_"Sure sounds like him,"_ Varric said from behind them. 

_"Maybe she knows about the dragon."_ Max began flapping his arms, a motion that did more to startle his horse than convey any meaning. Bird? Flying? Could Corypheus fly? What was he on about? 

Varric tried to help, miming walking fingers over one palm, then something diving at his palm. He made some strangled screaming noises. 

Hawks? Falcons? Eagles, maybe? 

_"Ah! Wait, I have an idea."_ Max pivoted at the waist to rummage in his packs and brought out a book. He flipped through the pages, the paper crackling and breaking in places, until he found a picture and pointed at it, holding it out to her. 

"Dragon," she said. 

"Corypheus dragon?" 

She thought. Did he mean was Corypheus a dragon? She shook her head slowly, frowning so he'd understand she was uncertain. 

Exasperated, Max sighed. _"My title for someone who knows the words 'does' and 'have' in ancient Tevene."_

_"The_ Tevinter _for it is habea."_ Solas said. "Corypheus a dragon _habea. The_ Tevinter _don't use such words as does. It's inferred from inflection and position in the sentence."_

They all looked at her, expectant. Habea. Has? Could he be trying to say has? "Has?" she hazarded. "Corypheus has a dragon?" 

Now it was Max's turn to shrug, then nod. 

She shook her head. At least head motions hadn't changed. "No, he doesn't have a dragon. One magister alone can't possibly control one. Sometimes an entire cadre can." 

_"Pretty language, that. Wish I understood it,"_ Varric said. 

_"We learned he didn't have a dragon when she knew him. That's something,"_ Max said. 

_"True,"_ Solas said. _"And we all know the ancient_ Tevinter _mage wouldn't lie."_

_"If you think you can do better,_ Solas, _be my guest."_

_"Very well. Tonight."_


	4. Chapter 4

That night, they intended to camp out again. Really, wasn't there such a thing as an inn around here? Had they no public houses? Their direction was steadily north and east, that much she could tell. Mountains loomed in the distance, though from her own travels she knew that such things were deceptive. They could be many days from the foothills.

Dinner that night was at least fresh meat, though watching Varric skin and gut two nugs had almost made her vomit. She still wasn't sure she could manage to eat the hunk of meat they had given her. She made the attempt, but soon put the plate aside

_"Poor thing. She looks like she thinks I’m trying to poison her."_

_"And here I didn’t think she’d had your cooking before,_ Varric," Max said, his tone notably lighthearted.

_"Hardy har-har. Laugh it up, but if she doesn't eat something soon, she'll pass out."_

_"She'll eat when she's hungry enough."_

Abruptly, Cole was sitting next to her. _"Fine food feasting, scenting aromas in the air. She's hungry."_

_"Then tell her to eat."_

Cole picked up her plate and held it out to her, looking hopeful. She sighed. "For you, I'll try. But, seven greater gods, is it too much to ask for a bit of salt?"

She managed three more bites before the image of the intestines overcame her appetite and she shook her head emphatically, pushing the plate back at Cole.

_"Weren't you going to speak with her,_ Solas?" 

_"No. Just communicate with her. Tonight."_

_"It is night."_

_"Patience, Inquisitor."_

_"Must be one of the things I left in the Fade. If you see it, try to bring it out, will you?"_

Solas chuckled at whatever Max was babbling at him. She liked Max, she found. He had a wry smile beneath that bristly black beard he was growing, and blue eyes that showed his every emotion.

Max caught her glance and winked at her.

Oh dear, the scruffy little barbarian wasn't developing a childish infatuation with her, was he?

To hide her uncertainty, she finished drinking her share of the water and turned to put the empty bag in the pile to be filled…

…only to find Max holding them all out to her.

She shook her head, confused. "I don't understand."

_"Don't give me that blank look. Go on, fill them."_ He nudged the bags at her, then pointed to the stream.

He wanted her to fill water bags? She blinked up at him.

He dropped them in her lap.

"You cannot be serious!"

He nodded his head toward the stream behind her.

"I most certainly will not!"

_"Uh oh. Haven't you ever heard the expression 'don't piss off a mage', Inquisitor?"_

_"It's getting water,_ Varric _, not chopping firewood. She can't have missed the fact that there aren't any servants here."_

Angrily, Annia got to her feet, scrabbling for the empty bags as they started to fall. The very idea that someone would expect her to tromp to a stream and stand in the water like some sort of farm hand was ridiculous. She looked around, but saw only Varric (trying not to look at her), Solas (looking at her with all the warmth of a snake), and Max. Unyielding Max.

"What this party needs is a servant," she declared. "By Urthemiel's blessed countenance, there's not a reason in the world why any of us need do the manual labor around here."

She pointed at Varric's belt. "Loan me your dagger, if you please," she said, holding a hand out.

He looked down at his belt. _"I have a bad feeling about this."_

Impatiently, she bent and touched the hilt of his dagger, then held out her hand.

_"All right, let's see where you're going with this."_

"Varric _, no!"_

She heard but ignored Solas' shout, even recognized it as a protest, but it didn't stop her from digging the point of the blade into her palm—

Slender fingers with uncommon strength gripped her knife hand and yanked it away, then plucked the dagger free as she yelped in pain. Furious, she glared up at Solas. "Are you insane, elf? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

_"You will conjure no spirits here!"_

"It does no good to yell at me when I haven't the foggiest notion what you're nattering on about," she snapped.

_"Enough!"_ Max pushed them apart, one hand outstretched to each of them.

_"She was going to summon a spirit, bind it to her will, enslave it!"_

_"You can't know that."_

_"She is a Tevinter magister, it is what they do, how they function."_

"But I do know when I'm being insulted, and I'm rather sick of it coming out of your pinched little mouth, you… uppity elf!"

Fire roared to life, blazing in Solas' hand.

_"Solas! I said enough!"_

Without another word, the elf turned on his heel and took two steps away.

Max scooped up the water bags and shoved them into her chest, not letting go until she wrapped her arms around them. He pointed at the flowing stream emphatically.

"Oh!" Angrily, Annia stomped a foot, then turned and kept stomping to the water's edge. 

_"Did she just stomp a foot?"_

_"Yeah, but I wouldn't point out to her how adorable that was."_

The water seemed to be laughing at her as she approached, the sound covering the rest of the conversation that was happening behind her. "It was one little spirit," she grumbled. "I don't know why they mind. It would make things so much easier on everyone and it's not like I was going to call up a demon. Honestly."

She realized Cole was standing on a rock in the middle of the stream. 

The broad brim of his hat cast his face in total darkness.

Deep in the shade, the moonlight caught his eyes, made them glitter.

Fear rose in an uneasy fog, fear that had not come at Solas' more direct threat.

Something touched her foot, making her screech and leap backward. A frog, she saw, a disgusting slimy frog hopping away from her intrusion.

When she looked back up, Cole was gone.

It turned out there was something of a trick to filling water bags. You couldn't just submerge them too close to shore or there was mud and small squirming things that didn't bear thinking about. She had to step into that same mud, out farther into the current and let the bags get full. A fact she didn't know until she had filled all the bags and Max sent her back after pouring dirty water on her hands from one of the bags she did fill.

And of course they had to be rinsed first because she wasn't about to drink mud, which took more time standing in the frigid water.

This time, Max was satisfied with her efforts and took the bags, nodding to her.

Freezing, disgusted, and more flustered than she had been, Annia crawled into her bedroll and turned her back on the lot of them. They kept talking, low conversation that rose and fell like the murmur of the stream. It seemed Solas was back in Max's good graces, for they spoke easily and calmly. Only Cole's voice was absent.

She felt another blanket cover her, and looked up.

Varric stood over her, then crouched and patted her shoulder.

Sympathy almost undid her, and she chewed on her lips to distract her from any thought of crying.

Then he tapped the dagger at his waist and wagged his finger at her.

She wasn't sure what the back-and-forth motion meant, but the look on his face made it clear enough. She nodded her understanding. No blood magic, at least not with Varric's dagger. She'd had her own, but had lost it somewhere in the temple. No doubt no one would loan her one now.

Varric straightened and went to his own blankets.

Annia turned back over and sighed, squirming deeper under the two blankets, ignoring the rocks and pebbles underneath her.

She slept.

 

She was in a forest, deep and dark, with trees so thick there was barely room to pass between them. Shadows clouded the distance; she couldn't see a way out. There was only darkness and branches reaching for her, and a distant rustling.

She was being hunted.

Annia fled, brambles catching her skin and making her bleed. Her clothes snagged and jerked, and the spaces between the trees grew narrower and narrower. The bark was rough against her skin, causing more cuts, more scrapes.

Behind her, the rustling grew louder, the sound of paws on earth, something running after her, smoothly chasing her through this wretched forest. Closer and closer it came, panting, hot breath on the back of her calves, teeth snapping, scraping…

Oh gods, let this not be real, let it be a—

A dream! She was in the Fade.

With recognition came power and with power came a clash of will. She felt something pushing back against her, forcing the forest and the night, but this was her dream, her mind, and she was a mage of Sarpedon's cadre. No one gave her nightmares if she did not want them.

Emptiness. Nothing. Not sand or dirt, not forest or leaves, not grass or water. She stood in nothing, white and glaring, revealing.

Solas stood in front of her, hands laced lightly behind his back, his eyes cold and angry.

She met his anger with her own. "What do you want?"

"Listen, for I cannot maintain this connection long," he said. "I know what you would do, and I will not countenance it. You will shackle no being in my presence, mage, will enslave no soul."

"It was only a spirit!"

He snarled at her from a hairbreadth away. "It is a creature with a will and a mind of its own!"

"As are you, it seems."

"As am I," he said, back at arm's length.

"Then you have said your piece, now go away before I force you out."

"Oh little mage," he said softly, "I almost wish you would try. But it may yet be that you have some part to play in all this that I cannot discern. So I will leave you in peace." He turned, then paused and looked over his shoulder. "One more thing."

"What?"

"It's time to—"

_"—wake up, Dusty, time to hit the road. And hope it doesn't hit back."_

Varric shook her shoulder again. Annia groaned. Had she spent all night running from nightmares? It felt like it.

As she crawled out of her blankets, she glanced toward Solas also just rising. He didn't look like he'd missed any sleep at all. Stupid elf. Smiling sweetly at him, she said in her nicest tone, "I hope a scorpion crawls up your nose and stings your eyeballs."

_"Weren't you supposed to talk to her last night, Chuckles? Or did all the interrupting of blood magic take precedence?"_

_"We communicated,"_ Solas said, calm and cool as he rolled up his bedroll and tied it to the back of his saddle. 

_"He chased her until she caught him."_

_"That sounds disturbingly like courtship, Kid. I'd rather not have that image in my head, thanks."_ Varric smiled encouragingly at Annia. _"Just think, only five more days of this and we'll be home. Life on the road."_ He offered her cold roast nug, then shrugged as she wrinkled her nose. _"Terrible food, hot and cold running weather, and a group of people getting smellier by the day. What's not to love?"_

She sighed and propped her head in her hands, watching the others eat, and wondered if it was too late to go back to the laboratory full of dead people.


End file.
